


then child, make another

by ElknCatus



Category: DnDnD (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mythology References, is it obvious that I read song of achilles while in a mood and now this is what happened?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElknCatus/pseuds/ElknCatus
Summary: Juno and Fletch have a heart to heart the night Juno tells them he's leaving
Relationships: Juno Greenpoint/Fletch Stormtale
Kudos: 3





	then child, make another

Juno picked up Fletch's glass, pouring the blood-red wine from the bottle, scrawled with hand-written text about a faraway time and place. He handed it to him, liquid dangerously close to sloshing over the side. 

"I'm going to miss you, you know," Juno said after a comfortable silence. The candles were close to close to snuffing itself, leaving the lights dimming and yellow twinged. He curled his legs under him, he had his head against the back of the couch. The man was carrying the beautiful shawl his wife had weaved all those years ago, delicate blues and pinks and yellows in embroidery. His fingers traced the patterns as he spoke. 

"I am too," Fletch agreed, taking another drink. He felt his stomach twist as he watched Juno's fingers trace the indigo fabric and the etchings of many colors. 

"Is it bad that I don't want you to miss me? I mean, we've spent the last year fighting for our lives. I would hate to think that adventuring got so boring all you can think of is me," Juno pulled his knees close to his chest and held his nose in the glass. His face was tight, turned into a slight frown.

Fletch's face was turned up, thinking of how to respond. He took a gulp of his wine and opened his mouth to speak. 

"I don't think that's fair. We all have what we think about to get by, the bonds to normal peoples, I guess; you have your projects, Flak has Carbert, Marg has Jason, I have my bar, and Zabbas-" he paused for a second, "well Zabbas is a teenager. I have about as much sense for his motivations as I have for Fluggy's. But what makes you think you won't be that for us?" Juno chuffed, his laugh low and like a tittering drum, looking up at Fletch for a moment. It seemed like a game as Juno tried to get him to look up for longer than a moment. Fletch was losing. 

"I suppose your right," he mused, "but do you really feel that way? Am I supposed to be patient, waiting forever while you could be dead? Have tea with Carebert?" Juno motioned with his hand, the liquid came dangerously close to sloshing over the lip of the glass. The back of his hands was crisscrossed with white scars, but he could see the calloused marks from a sword's hilt. 

"You would never be caught dead sitting around for us. You aren't going to be waiting," Fletch caught his gaze, "you're going to be helping people. The same as us, we're just going to be doing it a little bit more- forcefully," he smiled, comforting. Juno looked at him, his gaze was unreadable. 

"I guess you're right. Leaving, it's going to be hard. I haven't been this happy since, since my wife died," Juno was gazing back into his glass. Fletch couldn't help but notice the hand he clutched the shawl with his free hand. 

"I haven't been either," Fletch said simply, feeling the static pulse just between his fingers. The storm was a sick gift, one who killed his entire family. But it had saved him and his team. 

His gaze turned to Juno's face. His bronze skin was scarred and marred with lines from age and a lifetime of emotion. The cut of his jaw was relaxed and soft, even when his face tensed. Juno was undeniably handsome with his onyx hair in a shower down to his shoulders. Fletch paused when Juno looked up to meet his eye. He looked down quickly, hoping he had hidden the color in his cheeks.

"I think I'm afraid of losing you guys. If you were to," he paused, "If you were to die, I don't know what I would do," Juno's words were crisp, like he was already reading the eulogy. 

"We're going to be fine," Fletch shrugged, "where ever we end up next, we will be able to handle." His tone was a faux comfort that only made Juno's worry deepen. 

"I know you can handle a fight with goblins or orcs, but these quests are getting more dangerous, they're getting harder and harder, and I don't know if you're going to make it through," Juno looked annoyed, the same look of someone arguing with a brick wall of a person. 

"None of us have stayed dead yet," Fletch regretted it as he said it, noticing Juno's nostrils flare with a rage he had rarely seen. 

"I died. I was dead, Fletch! Flak was disintegrated, and if it wasn't for you and Margarine, we'd be burying a pile of ashes," Juno spat, "so yeah. I guess none of us have stayed dead." Fletch recoiled. His eyes were blazing with rage, a pyre made up of fear and pain. 

"You know I didn't mean it like that-" he pleaded with him. 

"Then what did you mean?" Juno demanded, his voice raised. 

"I meant, well, I'm not sure what I meant. But I do know that we're going to be okay. No matter what," Fletch offered, a smile crossing his lips. 

"I'm just so scared. I can't handle another person dying," Juno put his head in his hand, hiding his face. 

"I will do my best to protect them-" 

"Promise me," Juno cut in, his tone cold and severe. He had lifted his head; His expression was unreadable, his face cut from stone. 

"I swear it." Fletch breathed.

Juno crossed the space between them. He kissed the wood elf. Fletch's entire body tensed for a moment, eyes wide open in surprise. He relaxed quickly, returning the kiss. He tasted like sugar and wine and sweet cream. It was heated, nothing like what he had shared with girls from his village or in his travels. His heart soared. He hadn't realized how much he wanted this until it happened.

They stilled for a second before Juno started moving his hands downwards. Ever nimble, Juno's fingers caught the button, carved from the crown of a stag. Fletch tensed again, realizing what he had accepted. This had happened before, Juno's fear and his need for love. Fletch had caught in the middle of it then too. 

"Juno!" Fletch pushed him away, his face flushed, "Juno, you don't mean this," Fletch's voice faltered as he caught Juno's eyes; the eyes of an ox, deep ochre and deeper feelings that you could only begin to understand. 

"Fletch, you want this," Juno looked like he could weep, "I want this." His hand caught Fletch's chin, dark as stained oak. The sign, he recognized however archaic, was a plea. _Look me in the eye and listen to my request._

"You know that's a lie. You want me to stay," Fletch accused, shoving his hand aside, "please, Juno, stop." _Stop making me do this. I don't want to stop you._ He went to get up. 

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake," Juno grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving further, "but, just tell me, did you want this?" His hand was warm around his wrist. 

Yes. Fletch's throat felt clogged. He couldn't speak. _Yes, yes, I wanted this. But it wasn't right._

"I did, I do. But you don't need that right now," Fletch whispered, each word like thunder to his ears. _He tasted like sugar._

"Then, hold me." The phrase sounded like a dare, a plea, a cry. His heart ached; had he always felt like this? Had he been blind to his own feelings and his own friend? Tears stained the cleric's face. They reflected off the light of the candles, gleaming diamonds. 

Fletch leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. Juno relaxed into his arms and buried his face in his chest. He ran his hand through his hair as he sobbed. Low, racking breaths came in and out slowly as Fletch soothed him. 

Juno had managed to fit himself in Fletch's lap, his head tilted against his chest. Fletch still shook out the knots and curls of his stormcloud hair with gentle fingers. He had his eyes closed, even if his breathing was still ragged with barely kept together tears. 

"I thought you wanted this," the question slipped out into the silence of the parlor, too large for the gathered two. 

"I do want this. It's not even about leaving, it's about change," Juno pressed his face into his chest, the movement feline. The candles had gone out, leaving the room lit by moonlight. 

"I've guess I've never thought about it," The wood elf responded. Juno shifted in his arms. 

Fletch watched Juno fall asleep in his arms as his eyes traced the pillars of the rooms. His shawl was pulled around his shoulders like a lifeline, his fingers dragging lazy circles through the colorful cloth. His face, warm bronze cut with scars and crinkles, was awash in moonlight. The elf couldn't help but smile at how comfortable he was. 

Fletch took the final drink of wine. He discarded the glass on the end table. He thought back to the volcano and the day's events. He chuffed. If he had the two days that Juno had, he would be crying too. Hell, it had been more than a rough month on all of them.

The silence echoed; the only noise of the shuffling curtains in the open windows. It would be morning soon, and if they were spotted like this, there would be hell to pay. The elf knew that this would be a one-time thing. For his sake and the human's. 

Juno wasn't as heavy as he expected him to be as he gingerly tried to move. It was a cold loss as he stood up. Fletch draped one blanket over him and pulled the most comfortable throw pillow the wood elf could find under his head. He looked lonely, swallowed up by the couch.

Fletch sank to the floor, sitting, so his arms were on the cushions. His hand ran up his jawline like one would do to the finest weapon of old. He loved watching the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. Juno smelled like sugar and milk saturated with the decadent scent of lotus. He was like when his father had brought home cakes from the nearest bakery and flowers from the stream for his mother. 

He felt like he was in a dream, fleeting like a spring breeze and just as beautiful and whole. Fletch leaned closer and kissed his temple. Gentle Juno, Peerless in Counsel. That's what the poets would call him. But his place in the world would not be what Fletch would remember him by. It would be here, tear-streaked cheeks and drunken whispers and everything else.

For a moment, he envisioned what life would be like with him. Short and bittersweet. Juno would grow old, Fletch would stay the same. But happy, fulfilled, ones where they would hear the hymns of their life and be proud. _Most Beloved_ came to mind. 

But, he knew no hero was ever happy in the middle of a story and rarely at the end. _He who gave it all_ would be their titles, never words that told their whole story. Fletch bit back hot, stinging tears. He had no idea what he felt for Juno if it was merely attachment or something more, and Juno had no idea what he felt for him. At least they both mourned what was lost and what could never be. That would be his solace.

He stood, shaking off the warmth. He curled his fingers and let them fall. Fletch smiled one last time and made his way to the stairs, carved from solid marble, hauntingly beautiful, streaked with dark red fabric. He paused in the doorway, cut from the same marble the stairs were. He touched the cold stone with his hand and watched Juno's form for a few more seconds. 

"I'm going to miss you."

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes self-care is writing a very angsty fic for a pairing you don't even like after reading the song of achilles and a few essays on homeric color theory and being in a weird mood for two weeks.  
> and sometimes it's taking a nap.


End file.
